


The Dance of Anger

by JLKnox



Series: How Brio could actually work... [8]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst and shooting, Bath crying, Between the Scenes, F/M, Flashbacks, Inner Dialogue, Jealousy, Secrets Revealed, negative self-talk, parents fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLKnox/pseuds/JLKnox
Summary: Both Beth and Rio get educated by their "ex"es.===The look on Dean’s face. He was so willing to bet my life on the idea that Rio can even understand what love is, when I know for a fact that he has no idea.Dean showed his hand.I told him Rio would kill me if he cut the plate. Telling me you don’t kill something you love at the moment that he did a thing which will result in my death?
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: How Brio could actually work... [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657150
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	The Dance of Anger

I get home before the kids but after Dean has left for work. I assume he just thought things were bad with Sarah – I check my phone and there’s a puppy-dog “are you coming to help with breakfast” text, and another from Ruby saying Dean never checked in with her.

Dammit, I have no idea if that means he’s suspicious or he isn’t. I suppose since he knows Rio’s back, he’s just going to always be suspicious. Like I should have been for years, apparently.

He may have cost us the kids’ college funds, the dealership, and almost the house, but at least his fucking around couldn’t get us killed.

As far as we know.

I mean, he could have been banging Jay Cappo’s daughter for all we know, and there’s a mafia boss if I’ve ever seen one…even his name sounds like…

Oh for _fuck’s_ sake, that’s what all that was. Insurance. Everyone in that bar last night, in that lounge for lunch today knows my face now. And if something slips to the Feds, if Rio goes down because of something I say or do, it won’t just be Rio’s guys coming after me, it’ll be the Italians, the Armenians, but don’t discount the Albanians, and definitely the Greeks. Because if I’m Rio’s lady, I probably know things about all of them.

But I don’t! I don’t!

And I haven’t actually decided to be ‘his girl’ as of yet.

Oh really, haven’t you?

Shut up, Beth, and don’t roll your eyes at me.

I don’t even get to decide because he did it for me!

Not for the first time since getting caught up in all this, I want to have an epic toddler meltdown complete with stomping my foot and shouting, “It isn’t faaaaair!”

But the kids will be home soon, so instead I go hide my new dress in the sewing basket – it needs mending anyway, so I told Rio I’d keep that at least – and I whirlwind clean the kitchen and see what I can whip up for snack.

With only 5 minutes left before the bus arrives, I copy a number from my burner to my real phone and label it…what should I label it…Sidecar. I’ll change it later.

===

She ain’t change her real number since the fall. Dinnint ackshually think I’d see it back on dis phone. I look at the big letter L on my screen for one more ring, then hit the hands-free while I sit in the school pickup line. Can’t help but grin.

“Miss me already, ma?”

“Cappo!”

Cain’t help it, I let out a laugh. “So ya figured it out, didja?”

“How many others were there?”

“Well, I wannint keepin track, doll. How many did _you_ see?”

“This isn’t _Where’s Waldo_ , this is my life!”

“Nah, ma, it was yer …what they call it? Cotillion?”

At least he doesn’t use his wypipo accent. But I let out a noise of sheer frustration. Then breathe in and say slowly, controlled…

“You said I had to decide.”

“An Mick ask you why you always think you got a choice. You sidestep both dose questions.”

“You know it goes both ways.”

“Wazzat?”

“At least Cappo knows me. If anything happens to me…”

“Cappo knows you steppin out on yer hubby. An first ladies go missin all the time. Tolja. It’s bizness.”

“Well just for the record, I do not like it.”

“Oh, dontcha?” I lower my voice case one a the PTA ladies hear. “You seemta like it just fine last night. An this mornin. An…”

“I don’t like my choices being made for me.”

“You made that choice long ago, ma. You _all in._ ”

“And then you unmade it when you decided to kill me.”

“Nice day, innit, Suze? Marcus comin along real soon.” I turn my head back to the phone. “Wazzat, Beth, ya want me to pick up Jane while I’m here?”

“Keep your voice down! And no, Jane should already be on the bus. We are NOT carpooling.”

I tap the red button as my boy climb in the car.

I sink down on the hallway bench as my kids tumble through the door.

===

Snice day, so the windows down when I drop Marcus off at his madre’s after dinner.

Damn, it gonna be a long time before just the word “window” gonna stop makin mi pito twitch. Fuck that woman do to me.

Heavy as it is, my boy got the door open the second we hit the driveway an run right to his moms. Apples an trees, yo, he gonna treat his ladies right. Course, he left his backpack onna seat an before I can get into park an bring it to em, Rhea up in my car like it hers. Just her arm, but enough. I give her the bitch-back-off warning glare before laughin.

“Was just gonna bring dat.”

“Oh, no need, we’re all perfectly fine of making sure you don’t have to get out of your precious car.” Her sarcasm cut, but so do her eyes to behin the back seat. “Whatcha got there?”

“Ah jus some stuff I gotta take back…” I check my watch, “t’day, ackshully, or else.”

She cross her arms and sigh deeper than I spect.

“Did Marcus see any of it?”

I shrug. Who cares. “If he did he dinnint ask bout it.”

“That’s good, I’m not ready to have either the ‘where babies come from’ or ‘daddy’s new friend’ conversation quite yet.” She scuff the dirt wit her spensive shoes I pay for an look down for a while, door still open so I can’t leave. When she look up, somethin off. “She lose the baby?”

“Yeah.” I start chewin my lip an look all the way away from her, out my driver’s side window. (goddamn window)

“Well, that simples things up, I guess.”

“The FUCK you say?” I snap my head back an the reaction come before I can do my count. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” I breathe in for three. “It just suck, that all.”

“You…” her eyes flick back to just how much stuff back there. Elizabeth think I can read her, she shoul watch Rhea read me. It fuckin uncanny. “You wanted it.” An the look pass over her face is somethin else on top a sympathy. “Oh Mario…I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“I apologize for my reaction, that was really insensitive. I should have realized…”

“Yeah, well, you dinnint. We done?”

She take a breath, stop it, then nod. “Yeah, have a good night.”

But that readin each other thing go both ways an things fall in place.

“Wait.” She stop closin the passenger door an I growl. “Woman, what do you know.”

I ain’t askin.

She know better’n’ta make me ask twice.

===

Goddamnit!

Why did I ever teach Dean how to do laundry? There is no safe place in this house. And after that phone call with Rio there is no _way_ he is going to understand…anything.

Whatever that hotel stay won me, he made it clear my safety was not part of the bargain.

We need time to make a new engraving plate. The process is so long. And I really hope Annie knows where she put the hard drive with the original file on it.

I’m in the tub with barely any water, just enough to splash, and a glass of wine. A bottle…a box wouldn’t help me now. It’s an ugly cry. The sobs choke and a wine bubble forms in the corner of my mouth. The sound stops echoing off the tile because I’ve stopped breathing, but my stomach convulses as if I still were.

The look on Dean’s face. He was so willing to bet my life on the idea that Rio can even understand what love is, when I know for a fact that he has no idea.

He might love his son, but that’s involuntary. Parents love their children, it’s pheromones and biology and survival instinct.

But to _give_ his heart to a person? To choose someone?

That just isn’t in his scope of knowledge.

And Dean showed his hand.

I told him Rio would kill me if he cut the plate. Telling me you don’t kill something you love at the moment that he did a thing which _will_ result in my death?

Well there you have it, you unlovable trash human criminal idiot bitch.

Just as well you’re going to die because you lost your marriage, your business, and your partner all to a jealous asshole who might as well have killed you himself. It’s his signature on the death warrant.

My breath comes back in one long, shuddering, trembling gasp and the tears start again.

And then they stop.

The water’s cold. I stand up, dry myself off, drain my glass and tuck the towel around me. What’s that movie line? “Dames let it out and a bucket of tears later you can’t even tell?” That doesn’t sound right; Rio would know.

I feel my chin start to tremble again, but I bite it back.

Time to pour myself another glass of wine…but Dean’s in the doorway.

I put my head down to obviously communicate that we’re not talking. Leading with my shoulder, I move to get by him and he puts his hand out.

“I’ve known for a long time.”

My head flicks up. Known what…? That I’m gonna die?

“How many times has he threatened to kill you?”

I blink and actually try to mentally count.

“How many times have you died? Oh, that’s right, it’s gotta be zero or else we wouldn’t be talking.”

He takes a step in. I divert to the closet. If I have to listen to this, I’m going to be warm, dammit.

“Oh, that’s ok. I’ll wait.”

His sarcasm crawls up my legs like vines, slowing my steps.   
But I’m fucking cold.

Grabbing sweats, I come back into the bedroom, performing a gym-locker change to be absolutely clear.

“It was the night he shot me.” He pulls out his hands to count. “Feels so long ago…has it been a year? More?”

I shake my head and shrug. Not like I wrote it down and memorized the date.

“He had no reason to beat me up.  
None.”

My mouth opens and I start

“No. I don’t want to hear it. He came in to our house and he fought me, Beth. Whether he said so or not – he fought me for you.”

He shakes his head to the side and gives a bitter laugh.

“And I lost.”

His hand covers the lower half of his face.

“And when he took the gun from you, Beth, he should have shot _you._ ”

Dean’s face swoops down into mine and he starts shouting. I’m afraid he’s going to wake the kids but he kicks the door shut behind him.

“ _You_ turned him in. _You_ robbed his store – TWICE! _You_ had a Ponzi Scheme of housewives cleaning his cash. _You,_ Beth, _NOT ME._ ”

This is definitely not the time to mention that Ponzi Scheme is the wrong term: his face is nearly purple and vibrating with anger, flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth and saliva dripping off his teeth but none of it is making me tremble. He thinks this is what anger looks like? He thinks this is scary?

No, I see. He doesn’t think anything, he just is. His emotions are less in control than a toddler’s, and he’s unhappy because someone picked up the dolly he put down. It’s not even jealousy. It’s entitlement.

He’s straightened up and calmed down and takes a step back toward the door.

“He’s loved you since then. He didn’t shoot you, Beth, not even all the way back at the beginning.” Dramatically, he opens the door and pauses for one last jab. “But you didn’t shoot him, either.”

He storms down the hallway and calls over his shoulder that he’s sleeping on the couch.

No shit you are, if for nothing more than the engraving plate, but that little tantrum has extended your punishment to a week, young man.

===

And like usual, Dean’s a moron.

Because that revelation – that tidbit – is what I hold on to as I’m standing there, watching him watch Lucy.

“C’mon, we can give ya a ride.”

The way he stares as Annie and Ruby make excuses. The way he whispers, “Les go,” as he passes, still certain his face doesn’t give anything away.

_He’s loved you since he shot Dean._

“Lucy, don’t.”

It would have been so much harder to say without the knowledge Dean gave me. I hope I would have anyway, because I know how this ends.

“Th’only way someone like you get hurt is if you talk. You’re not gonna talk, rite?”

Those same words he said to me…right after he thanked me for helping him through his flashback. After I did something caring for him.

Right after he emphasized that I know something about him that very few people know.   
A threat made out of fear. And here he is, afraid again. But braver because he’s in front of his crew.   
What’s he afraid of right now? Where’s his vulnerability?  
How can I get him to not shoot Lucy without ending up dead myself?   
Can I challenge the king in front of his men and still live?   
How can he stand there and be charming to a girl who will trust him when we all know he’s going to kill her?

Just like he’s charming to you, Beth. It’s all a front – all of it. Even the things that look vulnerable. An elaborate game. You think Deansie is suddenly perceptive?

_He came into our house and fought my husband for me._

“What kind of packing are you going to put on the plates?” turnin way from Lucy an Mick, I gotta look bored an cold at that bitch so I ain’t cold-cock her wit this gun right now. Her crew will sure make a loud fuss an I can’t have that.

Sides, I got other plans for her. She think Imma kill her now, an she ain’t even know I know. What fun would that be?

I ain’t half-listenin, but respect – she finally standin up t’me ‘gain. I ain’t know where this brave face come from, but I missed it.

Fuck that, she a liar.

Fuck you, you a liar.

We both say what need said to stay alive.

She been a cowerin lil Beth since I got back – bout time I saw my ‘Lizabeth. She peek out a while at th’otel, but she out in force now.

Damn, I gotta turn away else I’ll smile an she’ll see; gotta suck in my cheeks t’stop it. Mick look like he gonta shoot er, he remind me I’m pissed at her.

“You need the chef! You need us! You need all of us.” She breathe an gesture, meanin Lucy, too.

I can’t help lookin her up and down, first thing make me want her is her passion. Her smarts. Her ability t’talk her way outta any sitch. An then her talkin hurt me. Deep. Way deeper than I thought.

I can’t let that go. But she right. I saw everythin she did that night, but I ain’t got the cheat codes.

Shakin my head, I just say, “Nah,” an she _still_ come back at me. Who gone an gave her a spine transplant? Frick an Frack there look like they gonna run an cry, an she just stare me down.

“No?”

Last time I try t’teach this to her, I shot witout lookin an fuckin Dean still alive. Shit, she woulda been mine an runnin this city by now if I’d bothered t’turn my head. Won’t make that mistake this time.

“Not alla you.”

I ain’t like killin rockstar. She a cute kid. But as I close the van doors an the posse crumble, I can’t help but give a parting shot.

“Birdnappin?” He shakes his head at me again. “Bitch, that cold.” He swings into the passenger seat and that’s it. 

===

Three days later, Dean’s back to normal. Forgotten and forgiven himself, no matter how I feel.

And like the simple, sweet, toddler he is…he believes me when I say Rio doesn’t love me, he loves the money.

¿Por que no los dos?

**Author's Note:**

> Finally caught up! Now to go watch yesterday's episode and find out if I painted myself out of the corner well enough.


End file.
